In the Shadow of the Mountain

Beginning with an end

"Father!" I screamed. He remained silent as the slave driver thrashed a whip over his back. Two men clutched at my shoulders as I writhed in their hands, trying to get away. But it was all in vain, and all I could do was watch. Watch as father's face contorted with every strike, watch as the blood and sweat mingled on his skin, watch as his strength faded until he no longer had the will, let alone the power, to lift his head. The driver that was whipping father walked out of the room, complaining that he had bloodstains on his whip.
"Your own fault, you barbarian." I hissed. He spun round and grabbed my face, glaring at me. I returned the icy gaze.
"Do you want to end up like your father?"
I didn't reply, only stared at him further, attempting to burn into him with my eyes.
"Well shut your mouth then!"
"What do you think I'm doing?" I mumbled. He slapped me across the face, sending pain tingling over. I ignored it though, because I was the son of a gladiator who didn't flinch at even the pain of a whip across his back.
The men let go of me and shoved me towards my father. I stumbled and landed in front of him, my hands in the growing pool of blood underneath him. I wiped then on my dirty tunic and stood up, the leather in my sandals slightly soaking up the blood on the floor. I looked at my father for a while. His breathing rattled and his chest heaved. He was bleeding to death.
I lifted his head in my hands and stared at his closed eyes, willing him to open them, or maybe he wasn't strong enough to even do that. They opened, revealing those electric blue eyes that we shared. He said:
"Marc- you know I love you."
"Of course, father."
"You know that I'm going to die today."
"Yes, father."
"You are strong, Marc. Stronger than I will ever be."
"No father."
"Yes. You are stronger than me because you dealt with them slapping you. I heard it. You are stronger because you did not reply. You are stronger because you defied authority. Something very few slaves do."
"But you did that. That's why they whipped you."
"Sometimes- sometimes you need to know when to stop."
"Father- are you alright?"
"I'll be fine. After all, I'll be spending time in The Plain of Asphodel with all the good men of past ages."
"No, father. You will be spending time in the Elysian Fields with Spartacus and Julius Caesar, because you are both a warrior and a hero."
"I love you, Marc."
"I love you father."
I took his head and held it close to my chest for a while in silence. Then I kissed him on the forehead and put my hand on his broad chest, feeling his strong heart beating slower and slower until it stopped.
A single tear fell and mixed with the blood on the floor. I fell to my knees and wailed until my throat was hoarse, and even then I sobbed until the slave driver came in and kicked me, telling me to shut up with my pathetic lamenting.
"YOU PIG!" I cried at him in fierce anger. "YOU FILTHY SWINE! YOU JUST KILLED THIS MAN AND YOU DON'T EVEN CARE! YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO THE ROMAN EMPIRE!"
All I remember after that is the sounds of the crack of the whip, the searing pain on my back and my head hitting the floor underneath my late father.